


Morning Tea

by Daedric_Prince_of_Pasta



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daedric_Prince_of_Pasta/pseuds/Daedric_Prince_of_Pasta
Summary: Martin enjoys his mornings with some tea and a good view.





	Morning Tea

Martin’s hands smoothed over the fine china whose warmth coursed through his body like a stream.

It was an early, brisk morning at Cloud Ruler Temple. If one squinted, they could just see the sun prying through a thick curtain of clouds. The lighting was perfect, in Martin’s humble opinion.

Perfect enough for some tea and quiet meditation.

He wasn’t truly alone though, the Blades were tenacious during their morning routine. Early outdoor training in the courtyard was common as well as rotational sentry shifts at the front gates. Martin would watch in silence, as he sipped his tea and wondered what secrets lay in Dagon’s blasphemous book.

The priest’s eye twitched. _Time to take another sip_. The taste however didn’t help; a little too much ginseng for his liking but well. That’s what you get when you decide to make tea in such a hurry before any one of those Blade guards could.

While Martin genuinely appreciated the gesture, little chores like making his bed, cleaning his own dishes and making tea… apparently mundane tasks were _unbecoming_ of an emperor, as Jauffre had explained one afternoon after a mishap with Martin’s laundry.

Another sip. It was hard enough to swallow the past but the present? Being the sole heir to the Ruby Throne? The only one to be able to translate the Mysterium Xarxes? The reluctant emperor began to notice the lack of tea left over and grimaced.

A purring sound stirred him out of his misery. A smile lingered on his lips. There were no cats allowed in the sanctuary. But there was only one Khajiit it could be.

Sure enough, in three heart beats, his dashing hero leapt out from nowhere, completely unaware of the priest’s gaze, in hot pursuit of a butterfly.

Jumping Jack was always one step behind the flawless creature. Th Khajiit always had a funny look on his face when concentrating; his eyes on his target, his tongue forgetting its place as it stuck its red head out into the cool mountain air.

Like something out of comedic writing, the butterfly danced in mid air, it hovered over a small and probably cold pond. Martin knew all to well where the punchline was going but he had faith in Jack, since was quite the acrobat.

It was as if Jack himself had remembered this, and carefully perched himself on some rocks that cupped the body of water below. Martin was simultaneously amused and amazed at how he sat just like a cat, with his paws all perfectly lined up and everything. Silver eyes glided to his own hands as he clenched the tea cup to his lips. The anticipation was gnawing at his insides.

The butterfly flew in circles, inching closer and closer to Jack the statue. He hadn’t moved an inch, but eyes dilated tenfold with each beat of the butterfly’s wings. Jack waited. Martin breathed. The butterfly moved.

It was now so close to Jack, it was within his arm range. The hairs on Jack’s neck stood tall, a signal to strike.

In a breaststroke motion with triumphant force that looked more like an obnoxious clap if anything, Jack’s mighty paws clamped the butterfly intwine. But before Martin could blink, the Khajiit’s body wobbled forward, caught off balance. The face he made before his body morphed into a slippery mess was something to behold. Not to mention the agonising screech that erupted from the sinking feline.

The pond fiasco sent tremors through Martin, as he laughed at Jack’s flailing frame. Several nearby Blades swivelled their heads towards the commotion but their future emperor could not bare to care.

Once moderately composed, Jack, all damp and shivering, tippy-toed his way out of the knee-deep puddle. He squelched his way to Martin and unveiled his claws; the butterfly was surprisingly alive!

It flew a few beats towards Martin before making a quick escape to the sky. But Martin didn’t stare for long. He was to enraptured in the muddy grin of his companion, the messiness, the wetness, all of him.

Martin’s hand decided to tilt the cup once more, savouring the last gulp of warmth and muffled laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Now I know what you're thinking — where are the ponds at Cloud Ruler Temple? How did the butterfly survive between Jack's massive paws? Have you heard of the High Elves?
> 
> Mysteries should remain just that — mysteries! 
> 
> In any case, thanks for reading! Hope you liked it.
> 
> EDIT: Fine china now exists in TES. You're welcome.


End file.
